


Bread and Salt

by eidheann



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Finding Bucky, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Natasha Is a Good Bro, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Recovery, Sam Wilson Is a Good Bro, Some elements of Roadtrip of Revenge, The Winter Soldier file, Tony Stark talks a lot, Umbrella "Bucky Barnes was held by HYDRA and bad shit happened"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-07 03:27:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5441762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eidheann/pseuds/eidheann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A presentation of bread and salt is a welcoming greeting in many European cultures.</p><p>= I'm sorry, this WIP is abandoned. =</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aiee. First time writing in a new fandom, and an intimidatingly large one as well. Love to the HD people who got me into this (you know who you are) and firethesound for prodding. This fic is assumed to be Winter Soldier compliant, but no further in the MCU. It's also not Civil War compliant, though some of my thoughts on Civil War/Bucky/Hydra have leaked through to play a part later.
> 
> At current, this hasn't been beta'd (*wince* I KNOW I KNOW) and I apologize for any mistakes.

The sound of a car backfiring snapped Steve out of the doze he'd fallen into on Sam's comfortable couch. He blinked once, twice, before pulling himself off the cushions and forward until his elbows rested on his knees. The quality of the light, for it was never really dark in DC, made him wonder if he'd slept more than he realized. The room was empty, and the house was too quiet for Sam to be anywhere but asleep.

He sighed, rubbing his hands across his face, staring at the shadowed file on the coffee table. It had been open, pictures and casenotes in Russian, with translations in Natasha's neat handwriting, filling the surface when he'd finally succumbed to Sam's nannying and collapsed onto the couch, closing his eyes. Obviously he'd slept through Sam's tidying up.

He had a brief moment of familiar frustration, quickly suppressed. Sam was worried. Steve could understand why; from the outside, he would be as well. He'd spent the past week staring at the same seventeen pages, four photographs. The Cyrillic becoming as familiar in its own way as the font he'd spent weeks inking for Goldstein's bakery when he was seventeen.

Also familiar was the thought that Natasha hadn't told him everything. Cyrillic looked normal. But he couldn't read it. And he had no one he could trust to get a second opinion. Not with this.

He flipped the file open once again. Seventeen pages, a pretty even split between handwritten and typed, Nat's clinical translation beside. Easy to forget that they were talking about a person, about _Bucky_ , caught up in the unreality of decades of testing. Of the limits of whatever knockoff serum they'd given him. Of the arm. Surgical notes of the initial attachment. Of further surgeries in attempt to fully brace it. The list and ratios of the cocktail of narcotics and supplements they gave him before putting him in the cryochamber, or after removing him.

The experiments in learning those as well.

The photographs were worse.

The first photograph was the first thing he'd seen in the file. It was the one on top, and he'd closed the file as soon as his mind registered what he was looking at: a blue-grey tinted window, Bucky asleep behind it, with a single hand reaching up to touch the glass. The photographer was almost visible, a reflection with a large camera.

It looked like a coffin. Bucky looked dead. That was all that his mind could process when he'd opened the file, and he'd nearly been sick on the spot.

The rest were worse still.

In one, black and white, fading yellow with age, Bucky was on his back on a surgical table, eyes open and staring, face barely visible in the upper corner of the photograph. An afterthought. The focus of the picture was the left arm, stretched out with two doctors standing over it, reattaching a series of metal bars and screws that had ripped away from Bucky's ribcage, leaving his left side a bloody mess.

Another, in color, though strangely saturated in a way that didn't look like any photographs he'd seen, but Sam mentioned something about the early 80s, showed Bucky sitting, back military straight, on a mostly-reclined chair. His wrists were bound beside him, and his head was tilted up slightly, looking at a man standing almost entirely out of the frame. Behind him, attached to the chair, were a tangle of wires and clamps that Steve could recognize from the casenotes as the device that was used for resets.

Bucky's expression was confused, the small divot between his brows that signaled worry and confusion hitting Steve with the full force of years of memory. His forehead was otherwise discolored, with a reddish mark visible on his temple, and the obvious red of blood visible on his right hand.

The final picture was the one Steve looked at least. Bucky, standing in what appeared to be a bunker. Hydra, he assumed, as there was both a chair and tank visible in the background, surrounded by pieces of likely a dozen bodies. He was nude, covered with blood, and… empty. His expression blank as it had been in the picture of the operation to repair his arm. There was no context, and based on the lighting, Steve couldn't even tell if the photograph had originally been in color or not. It could have been Red Room. He didn't know; couldn't guess. And that disturbed him more than the others, that Bucky had fought back and then been shut down. Turned off like a machine.

It was the last photograph that made him wonder if this whole thing was a wild goose chase. That even if something in Bucky recognized him, had _saved_ him, that there was always the possibility of Hydra doing _that_. That no matter how hard he fought, how hard Bucky fought against them, that they could turn him off.

He didn't tell Sam that he sometimes wondered if it was worth it. That Bucky might be better off on his own, hiding from Hydra. That Steve would lead them to Bucky; that they would get him back.

That was the real reason he was still on Sam's couch, Natasha's warning echoing in his brain. The more the thought about it, the less he felt she was speaking only of his feelings, or the likelihood of Bucky regaining some measure of himself. He worried, wondered, if she were speaking of him, and the possibility of his disrupting any peace Bucky could find for himself. If Steve would lead them to his door.

Because certainty he had. Bucky was still in there. Steve wouldn't be alive if he wasn't.

What he lacked was the certainty that he could keep him that way.

##

It wasn't at all surprising that when he gave up flipping through the file and dialed the number Nat had programmed into the burner phone she'd included with it, it picked up before completing the first ring.

"Isn't it usually considered rude to call people at 3am?"

Steve could feel himself smiling at the familiar rasp of Natasha's voice. "Not when they pick up immediately."

"Hm. It's not 3am here, though."

He sighed, firmly resolving not to ask. "You think following Bucky is a mistake."

There was a pause, and Steve became aware of the complete silence on the other end of the line. He pulled the phone away from his ear to stare at it, making sure the call was still connected.

"I think you should think. You have a… history… of not doing that when it comes to Barnes," was her final response.

"What does that even mean?" He stood and began pacing in the small area between the back of Sam's couch and the small breakfast table. "I thought you were telling me to be careful for what I'd find but that's not it, is it?"

Natasha sighed. "Just a moment." There was a rustling sound, fabric against fabric, and a quiet murmur, then the sound of a door clicking locked. "This isn't a good conversation to have over the phone, you know."

"You left me the phone. You must have been expecting it."

"Mmm. Quicker than I'd expected, as well. You're improving." He could hear the faint smile in her words before she continued, all business. "You're thinking now, but you don't when it comes to Barnes. It's obvious that anything that involves him turns your higher brain functions into mush and you revert to either following orders or throwing yourself at the problem like an overly large bullet."

"I do not—"

"You jumped out of a plane on a one-man suicide mission on the off chance he'd still be alive. You crashed another plane into the arctic after he died. You decided that dealing with Project Insight would be the path you would take to get Barnes back. Is any of that sound planning?"

"Nat…" He sighed. "He's my friend. I can't just…."

Natasha continued in his silence. "I'm not faulting you. None of this is being said as being a bad thing or a good thing. But it is predictable. And if it's obvious to me, you can be sure that Hydra has 90 years of notes on the sorts of things you do when Barnes is involved."

"So they're watching me."

"Steve, Hydra is always going to be watching you. But watching you as a target yourself is very different than watching you to target someone else, right?"

"But—" He took a breath, trying to will his jaw and shoulders to _relax_. "I can't do nothing."

"I'm not asking you to do nothing. Just don't do anything… reckless."

He closed his eyes, trying to control the sick feeling of helplessness in his gut. "Did you translate everything in the file?"

Natasha's voice was warm with a smile again. "Of course. I couldn't risk you taking it to some poor Georgetown student to translate the Russian."

"What about the photographs?"

"They were with the file as-is. I wasn't keeping any context from you."

"Red Room or Hydra?"

Finally, she sounded surprised. "The file is all Red Room. I'm sorry, I thought you knew." A pause. "Hydra was much less with the physical files, as far as I've seen. Maybe in some of their older bases, but all that information is in the mess of the initial dump."

There was another pause. "How much of the dumped files have you looked at? About Red Room, I mean." And before Steve could reply, she continued. "Red Room was active before Barnes fell. Hydra would have known about it, because that sort of thing would have been right up their alley. And Red Room had all the tools needed to… rewrite a personality already there.

"Barnes was kept in Red Room facilities for decades, a symbol of the weird relationship between them and Hydra. He wasn't moved to a Hydra-specific location until 1989 when Pierce was made his handler."

"So we have nothing after 1989?"

"You could ask Tony. If anyone is going to be able to track Barnes through all the encryption and number of files in the dump, it would be JARVIS. Or crowd-source it to Twitter." Another pause. "I don't know what good it would do, for you or for him."

" _Can_ I do anything for him?"

"I don't know, Steve." Natasha sighed. "I haven't heard anything. He walked out of the Potomac and disappeared. He's _trying_ to hide."

"And you think I should let him."

"I'm reasonably certain Hydra hasn't gotten him back. I'd say he's doing pretty well for himself."

"But—"

"Just. Just wait. Okay? Wait. Plan. We missed the best window for immediate response while you were in the hospital, and now everyone's gone to ground licking their wounds."

"But if Hydra knows me and can predict me, shouldn't I be… acting predictable so they don't suspect anything?"

Natasha laughed at that. "Take out a few Hydra bases, then. Get some revenge. Don't let yourself get stupid."

He sighed. "Yes, ma'am."

"I should be back in a week, two at the most. I mean it. Nothing stupid or I'm going to set Sam on you."

He turned automatically at the mention of Sam's name, looking toward the bedroom door, only to find Sam standing in the hallway, watching him with an eyebrow cocked and his arms crossed.

"I think you already did."

"Good. Put him on."

Steve rolled his eyes but obediently held out the phone. "Nat."

A second eyebrow joined the first in its climb up Sam's forehead, but he took the phone. "Hey, Nat… Yeah he is. Every night… I know…. Yeah."

Steve sighed and went to fill the kettle, trying to not listen to the one-sided conversation. Finally, Sam laughed, long and loud, and he found himself smiling in response. He was still smiling when Sam nudged him in the arm with the phone. "I should never have introduced the two of you."

"You deserve every minute of it. Especially if you're going to call scary Russian spies at 3 in the morning and not even have the courtesy to keep it down."

"You're a light sleeper." He stared at the kettle, smile falling away.

"Damn right I am. But 3am, you should be sleeping, too."

"Couldn't sleep." He offered a half smile. "Tea?"

"Yeah. Might as well. Not getting any more sleep with you clomping around in my kitchen."

"Sorry."

"Nah, you're not the first friend who I've had to hand-hold instead of getting my beauty sleep."

"I was gonna get the Sleepy Time."

"Well. Maybe I'll get some sleep tonight after all." Sam handed him a pair of mugs. "But what was so bad you needed to call Nat?"

"Hydra wants me looking for Bucky. They think I can find him faster than they can."

Sam let out a low whistle. "That's rough, man."

"I… I don't know what I'm supposed to _do_."

"What will Bucky do?"

"I don't know." And that thought was the hardest of all.

##

What Steve was supposed to do, according to Sam anyway, was keep busy. And Sam's definition of "keeping busy" involved a complete overhaul of his garden. Or, more specifically, the part of his yard he'd decided he _must_ have a garden in.

"Man, it's May. I need to get the tomato plants in now if I want to eat them this summer."

So Steve found himself digging up a bed behind Sam's porch, and hauling bag after bag of compost to mix in with the reddish soil under the sod. It was busy work, and Steve knew it was busy work, especially when Sam stood on his patio with a bottle of cold beer, using it to direct Steve's shovel.

But it was novel, and caused an unfamiliar strain on his muscles, and there was something about the smell that was soothing. He understood why Bruce spent so much of his spare time on Tony's rooftop garden.

And then one afternoon while he sat back in one of Sam's chairs, dirt still embedded under his nails, his phone rang.

"Steve."

Natasha's voice was so carefully neutral his spine straightened immediately. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Someone just took out what I _thought_ was a defunct Hydra base in Madison."

He blinked at that. "Bucky."

"I'm reasonably certain it wasn't anyone else."

He bit back his first response. Took another breath. "It wasn't defunct?"

"Apparently not." Steve could hear the tightness in Natasha's words. "It was in the basement of a warehouse. Shipping containers. One of them had the entrance to the basement. The offices were dusty, hadn't been used in a decade, when they were checked out."

"What did you find?"

"I haven't seen. I'm in flight now."

"Right." Steve pushed himself up. "I'll meet you in Madison."

"Steve." Natasha's voice had wrapped back around to caution. "It's… There was a chair."

He swallowed back on the nausea. "Then I need to. I'll."

"Bring Sam. We may need back-up. If he's taking out Hydra bases, even small ones, single handedly, I… I'm not sure you'll like what we may find."

"Weren't you the one telling _me_ to take out Hydra bases for revenge?"

" _You_ have friends, Steve."

Steve let out a breath. "Yeah. I know. Thanks, Nat."

As soon as Natasha hung up, he dialed Sam's number and tucked the phone back under his cheek, grabbing his duffle. "Hey, Steve. I was thinking of a river rock border—"

"We need to go to Madison. Now." He frowned into the bag before zipping it closed. He'd been living out of it in the weeks he'd stayed with Sam, and except for a couple dirty changes of clothes, it was already packed.

"Or we could discuss how nice the weather is in Wisconsin this time of year…"

"He's taking out Hydra bases." Steve left his bag on the couch before crossing to Sam's room. His jaw ached with how hard he was clenching it. "What can I pack for you?"

Sam let out a low whistle. "Madison, huh? Okay. Give me 20 minutes to get this morning's group transferred over to Martina and get back there. I'll pack. You work on that Captain America thing and see about transportation, since I _know_ that shield of yours isn't getting through airport security."

Steve grimaced. "Yeah."

"I'll be there in 20 minutes," Sam repeated, his voice firm. "You wait for me there."

He let out his breath. "I will."

"Right."

##

"Heeey, Capscicle." Tony's voice was loud and sounded distant behind the music playing in the background.

"Do you remember when you told me I could use that jet?"

There was a clatter and Tony's voice came again, much closer. "Depends. Are you going to use it to do something interesting?"

"Do you consider cleanup of a Hydra base interesting?"

"Pffft. Work." Tony's voice drifted again, and he continued, sounding bored. "Yeah, yeah. Mi airplane es tu airplane. I assume there's a reason you're not calling me in to help?"

"Base is gone. It's really just cleanup."

"Okay, there's a story there, but I'm kinda up to my elbows in something right now, I mean that literally, so I don't really care. I'll have JARVIS alert the usual suspects and send a car over. You're still staying with the bird-man?"

"Yes, I'm at Sam's."

"Good, you can tell him that I'll have that wings upgrade thingie finished by your birthday."

"I don't think he's expecting one."

"Can't have the bird-man grounded. He going on this little trip of yours?"

"And Nat."

"Okay, now I _am_ hurt that I'm not invited to this party. Not really. I'll see if I can whip something up faster if you guys are going to actually be doing something. You owe me. JARVIS." And then the quiet click of the call disconnecting.

Then there was nothing but to wait.

##


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudo'd. You guys make my world go 'round. <3
> 
> Here's my _mea culpa_ starting to post a WIP during the holidays when I'm busy busy busy. Not my brightest hour. I'm working on this, and am hoping to maintain weekly-ish updates. I'm not the fastest writer, but I tend to do very well with deadlines. Even personal ones.
> 
> As always, this hasn't been beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes. Thank you all again.

Tony's car arrived before Sam did. Steve had expected something large, black, and official looking; that or fast and bright red and gold. But it was a surprisingly inconspicuous blue SUV that pulled up in front of Sam's house, and a familiar-looking woman in a Stark branded polo shirt waved to him from the front seat.

Steve had been pacing again, running one hand along the edge of his shield. He'd been surprised to see it propped in the chair in the hospital room. He hadn't expected to see it again after it fell into the Potomac, but it had been waiting for him, without a scratch, when he woke up.

Sam had shrugged and smiled. "Stark tech. And Nat." Which was really all the answer needed.

Steve looked out the window again, shoulders relaxing a bit when he saw Sam pull into the driveway. He opened the door to see Sam toss a quick salute in the direction of Tony's car. 

"Must be nice to have rich friends," Sam commented as he passed Steve and made his way into the bedroom.

"He says he'll have your new wings ready to go by the Fourth."

There was a pause and Sam backed out of his room again, craning his neck to peer at Steve. "You mean I get to reap the benefit of you being… some kind of co-worker with Tony Stark? Damn, I knew knowing Captain America would be good for something eventually."

Steve found himself grinning, just a bit, in spite of himself. "Yeah, I know. Usually just ends you up getting shot."

"Hey, my life was getting boring anyway." Sam came back to Steve, clapping one hand against his arm. "I mean it. Thanks, man. For letting me help with something where I'm doing some good."

Steve shook his head. "You do good work."

"And so do you. And we're gonna figure this thing out, right?"

Steve nodded. It was the only thing he could do in the face of Sam's unwavering certainty. "Right."

"Right. So. I'm gonna go pack my stuff and we'll be out the door in ten. You can get me Tony Stark's number so I can thank him personally once we're in flight."

##

The trip to Dulles was normal. Things clogged up near the 495, but flowed smoothly once they were on the Access Road. He kept looking out the window expecting to see someone following them, but traffic was so normal he couldn't help but become more and more tense, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Sam gave his shoulder a brief squeeze as they drove. He didn't look up from the game on his phone, or otherwise give any indication he was aware of Steve's distress, and that… helped.

Likewise, the airport went by without a hitch. The car exited on a private drive, leading around the back side of the terminal, and drove directly onto the tarmac. The Stark jet was waiting, door open and stairs down. 

"Have a good flight!" The driver's chipper words dragged his attention to her smiling expression, and he found himself nodding in reply. Sam clapped his shoulder before opening his door and sliding out, bag in hand. Steve grabbed his own bag and shield and followed.

They were met at the top of the stairs by a frowning woman with a military set to her shoulders. "Captain. Airman. I've been informed I'm to take you to Madison on, and I quote, _a matter of utmost discretion_. As I wasn't aware up until this point that Mr. Stark knew the meaning of the word, you can understand my concern."

Steve glanced at Sam to find his eyebrows up. "Yeah, no. I don't actually know Stark so I can't help you with that."

"Is this Avengers business or something I'm going to have to discuss with Col. Rhodes?"

"Sorry. I didn't know Tony would be calling in that many favors for us. This is a clean-up mission. Time sensitive, but we aren't anticipating any complications."

"Outside of the normal clean-up types?" Her lips twitched slightly and her shoulders loosened the smallest amount. "Good to know." She held out a hand. "Carol Danvers. Col. Rhodes has me on Stark Duty this week. It's an honor to meet you, Captain."

Steve shook her hand. "Steve, please."

She nodded, "Carol, then," before offering her hand to Sam as well. 

Sam grinned as he shook as well. "Stark Duty? I can hear the capital letters in that."

"99% of the time it's twiddling your thumbs. And the 1% is wishing like hell that keeping Mr Stark on a leash was someone else's job that week. There's a rotation." 

"This should stay a 99%, I promise." 

Carol simply nodded. "I'll trust your assessment. If you'll take a seat, we can get this show on the road."

##

Stark's jet was pretty much what he'd expected. The seats had more in common with oversized loungers, a large conference table filled what would normally be a central aisle, and there were monitors everywhere. Everything visible was wood, glass, leather, or chrome. Sam collapsed onto one of the seats with a happy sigh. "I am in the _wrong_ line of work."

The plane began to move and Carol's voice carried clearly into the cabin. "We've permission to take off. We should reach Madison in approximately two hours."

Steve hurriedly sat, attempting to relax into the comfortable chair. His jaw was tight, and he could feel the tension in his shoulders and neck start a pounding behind his eyes. 

"Hey, what'd that chair do to you?"

Steve glanced at Sam, who dropped his gaze pointedly to Steve's white-knuckle grip on the chair arms. He stretched his fingers out one by one, taking a slow breath. "Nothing. Sorry."

"Hey, man. No apologies needed. Just thought you might want to stop before you break Mr. Stark's plane."

"Pardon me, but these seats are designed to withstand anything up to incineration. Captain Rogers is at no risk of causing damage." JARVIS's cool tone caused Sam to jerk alert. "Apologies, Mr. Wilson. I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark's AI. I did not intend to startle you."

"Apology accepted. Thank you." Sam glanced around the cabin. "You everywhere Stark-owned?"

"Mostly, yes. I run all of Mr. Stark's systems. However, if discretion is needed, I can not-remember anything within a timeframe requested."

"It's fine, JARVIS." Steve rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension. "We trust you."

"Very good, Sir. If I may, Ms. Romanoff has forwarded me the address of your target location in Madison. I have satellite, aerial, and traffic maps, as well as all available blueprints and utilities expenditures if you would like to see them."

"Please."

The conference table glowed a bright blue before images began rising from it to hover, rotating slowly. Steve crossed to the table, frowning at the blueprints which stilled when he leaned close to them.

"Hey JARVIS? You know when Nat's supposed to arrive?" Steve glanced back to see Sam staring up at the ceiling.

"Ms. Romanoff's plane is due to land in approximately seven minutes."

"Another Stark jet?"

"No, I extrapolated based on satellite and GPS models based on when and where I received notification." There was a pause. "It _is_ possible that Ms. Romanoff is routing her calls through another cellphone on another airplane, of course."

"Of course." Sam's voice was faint, and Steve smiled a bit. "So she'll be there to meet us, where _there_ could mean either the airport or the warehouse, or we'll meet her when she arrives."

"Sounds right."

"Man, this spy bullshit is bullshit."

He laughed, and Sam's smile flashed bright as well. "There we go. So. Let's look at these blueprints or something."

##

The blueprints told them nothing beyond what they already knew. They didn't include a map of any underground passages, just a basic layout of a completely standard warehouse. The utility bills were unusually high up through two months ago, and there were semi-regular spikes in use in the ten years that JARVIS had records of.

Steve and Sam stood over the table, trying to find some use for the information until Carol's voice came announcing they would be landing soon. Sam gave him a firm shove in the direction of his seat and crossed to his own, collapsing once again. 

Steve sat slowly, resisting the urge to check his gear when Sam gave him a look. "At the risk of sounding like a cliché, I have a bad feeling about this."

Sam smiled. "Understandable caution. Keeps you careful."

"If you say so. Nat doesn't seem to share the sentiment."

"That's because she's used to spy shit. She's not so much for the direct approach." Sam held up a hand. "Not that I'm saying she's bad at it. But given the choice, she'd rather come up with a dozen ways of getting around something than going through. You don't think like that. Makes it hard to plan."

Steve sighed. "Yeah."

"That's why we're going to focus on getting there and deciding what to do then. This is a clean-up."

"I know, but…"

"But what? You think we're going to run into your friend?"

Steve shifted slightly. "I… No. I don't. He's hiding, except when taking out Hydra bases, apparently. I don't expect that to change."

"But you're hoping." Sam's expression was open, but his words were definitely more a statement than a question.

"I… Maybe. Kinda. God, Sam. What if Nat's right and Hydra's watching me and waiting for him to show up?"

Sam shot him another look. "I think Hydra knows where he _was_ if he just took out one of their bases." He sighed. "I see what Nat meant when she said you get thinking about this guy and your higher brain function turns off."

Steve grimaced. "I just. This was my fault. Seventy years. If I'd—"

"Stop that right there. There's some heebie jeebie shit with the Avengers, but I haven't even heard of Thor going back in time. And he's a god. You can't second guess your past or you'll do nothing else. Deal with the present, which is seeing what we can find with this Hydra base." Sam sighed. "Even brainwashed, this guy's got training. He's not going to stick around the scene where he's likely to get caught. That's good for him. Keeps him alive longer."

"There's a chair here." The words were out before Steve even registered he was speaking. "He's remembering."

Sam sat back as the plane began its descent. "That or he found files. I'm sure he's got all sorts of Hydra log-ins. But one hit does not make any kind of pattern we can follow. And Hydra can't, either."

"But Hydra knows where all their bases are. We don't."

"I'm pretty sure they've got enough that they won't be able to predict where he's headed for quite a while. We stay close, we may be able to provide backup when it's needed."

"That's a whole lot of maybe."

"Yep. But I'm an optimist."

##

Natasha sat behind the wheel of the convertible waiting for them when they landed. "Afternoon, boys. Ready for a party?"

"So subtle's out?" Steve dropped his bag and shield in the back seat before climbing in next to Natasha.

Sam rolled his eyes and climbed into the back. "Nice to see you, Nat. Hope you had a good flight."

The car started with a low purr and Natasha pulled away. "Passable. And yes. There are some friends keeping an eye on things, but no reason for caution, apparently."

"Who found the site?" Sam leaned into the space between the front seats.

"Chance, mostly. Clint knows people. General sweeps of known locations ever since the information was released." Natasha shrugged as she merged into the airport traffic. "The hit was recent, within the past two or three days."

"How far could Bucky get in two or three days?"

"Are you asking, or is that rhetorical?"

"Asking."

"Australia. South Africa. Bali. Antarctica." Nat quirked an eyebrow. "Only limiting factor would be how far an airplane could get in 36 hours. Which is pretty much anywhere."

Steve sighed. "You think he's gone."

"I think Barnes is much too smart to stick close after taking out a base, yes." 

"How likely is he to get caught if this turns into a thing he does?" Sam broke in.

Natasha sighed. "That depends on too many factors. Why this base? Will he keep it up? How often? How well would he randomize his targets? How good is he at avoiding being spotted in completely innocuous ways without a handler to help him? Why now?" She shook her head. "Ask me again once we get there."

"I hate waiting."

Nat said nothing, though she did speed up.

##


	3. Chapter 3

Natasha pulled into the empty parking lot in a mostly-abandoned industrial neighborhood and killed the engine, looking around with a frown. Steve looked around as well, feeling tension ratcheting up in his shoulders at Natasha's obvious unease. Behind him, he could hear the quiet click of the safety on Sam's pistol.

"Everything okay?" 

Nat made a quiet noise. "I was expecting someone here to meet us."

Steve fidgeted with the strap of his gauntlet. "How strong was this expectation?"

"Fairly strong." Nat climbed out of the car and looked around again. "But we should look around before assuming anything."

"Right." Steve climbed out as well, stepping aside as Sam scrambled out behind him. 

They crossed to the door marked Office and Nat turned the handle easily. The lines between her brows deepened, but she said nothing as she pulled the door open and stepped inside. 

"You know, if we're just walking in, there's no reason for me to not go first," Steve grumbled. 

Natasha gave a smile over her shoulder as she passed a dusty desk, cluttered with manila folders and accounting printouts, and opened another flimsy door. "Well. I would say you didn't know where we were going, but…"

Sam's low whistle echoed in the well-lit area. It was full of empty shipping containers, all standing open. It smelled strongly reminiscent of a train yard, oil and metal and dust. One container, easily visible from the doorway where they stood, contained a bright chrome elevator door, crumpled at the seam as if it'd been hit by a battering ram. Or Bucky.

"I don't like this." He glanced briefly at Natasha, who was scanning the room. "I'm going to look around up here. This is a little too much like an invitation."

"You need backup or am I with the guy with the target on his back?"

"You go with Steve. Stay on comms, check in regularly." 

"Right." 

Natasha turned and darted around the corner and Steve made his way to the elevator, Sam alert behind him. He took a closer look at the damaged door. The hole, because it went all the way through, was a bit below shoulder-height, and probably the right size to have been made by Bucky's arm. 

"Checking it for fingerprints?" Sam's voice was low, and Steve glanced back to see him grimace. "It was him or an RPG, and last I heard no one reported hearing a rocket going off."

"Yeah, I know." Steve used the hole to push the door open, watching as it slowly slid closed when he released it. "Well. Door closes automatically. At least we know he didn't close it behind him."

"Oh. Because _that's_ not creepy."

"You know, I said check in regularly not start a comedy hour." Natasha's voice cut over any response.

"You know you love it."

Steve sighed and pushed the door open again, looking down the shaft. "One floor. Top of the elevator's only a few feet drop. Escape is open."

"Generous of him." Sam leaned over to look down, holding the door while Steve stepped carefully onto the roof of the elevator. "Steady?"

"Completely." Steve peered down through the escape hatch. "Clear inside as well. Doors are open, there's a hallway, dark. Only two floors to select inside the elevator."

"Hm." Natasha's voice was low and distracted sounding. "Not finding much up here, though I see where he stacked the bodies."

"Bodies?"

"A dozen in one of the containers. Lab techs, white coats, it looks like."

Steve grimaced, but he knew bodies were inevitable when Hydra was involved. "Right. Sam?"

"Right behind you, man."

Steve nodded, then dropped into the elevator. The hallway beyond the door was dark, but the faint glow of red emergency lights was visible. He stepped into the hallway as he heard the thump of Sam's boots above him. 

Once the light of the elevator was behind him, his eyes adjusted quickly. The hallway was narrow, with regularly spaced doorways on either side. All of the doors seemed to be open. 

"Got a light?"

There was a sigh, and then a click and the bright white beam of a flashlight shone down the hallway, stretching his shadow along the floor in front of them. "Ten doors, five a side. Metal door at the end. Closed." Steve peeked into the door to his right. "Offices, it looks like."

Sam made his way further down the hallway, flashing the light in the doorways as he went. "And labs here at this end. Pretty smashed up."

"Offices aren't."

"Computers?" Nat asked.

"Laptops. We'll grab them." Steve stared at the metal door at the end of the hallway, feeling a sinking in the pit of his stomach. His steps were slow, his feet feeling heavy with dread. "Chair's probably through there."

"You okay, man? Need me to do this?"

"No. Thanks, Sam."

Steve stood another moment, staring at the door. Flat metal, with a valve wheel. "No getting out from the inside of this."

Sam squeezed his shoulder briefly and Steve gave the wheel a tug. The door swung open with a faint squeak, and he grimaced at the weight of it, at how it held his attention when he really didn't want to look further inside. "Literal submarine door. Thing's three inches thick."

"Nat?" Sam's voice was quiet. "Computer's on in here. Logged in."

"What?" Steve and Natasha spoke at the same time and Steve finally looked into the room. The chair was there in the center on a slightly raised platform, a stomach-turning tangle of wires and straps. But Sam was correct, behind the chair was a large set of monitors, each showing blinking cursors and command line prompts.

"I'll be right there." 

Sam stepped further into the room, keeping his distance from the chair, as he made his way slowly to the computers. "I take it your friends didn't mention anything about the computers being on?"

"No." Natasha stepped around Steve more quickly than he thought she could possibly have arrived and made her way directly to the computers. "They did not. Add to the fact that they're not _here_ , and I'm thinking more and more that this is a trap."

"Or a message."

Natasha gave Steve a look over her shoulder before turning to place a thumbdrive into one of the CPUs. "Barnes would have to be an idiot to stick around after wiping out a Hydra base. And as I know he's not an idiot, I'm left to believe Hydra caught up with him and are using him to lead you into a trap."

Steve shook his head. "You said—"

"I know what I said. Call this adapting to additional information." Her fingers worked quickly over the keyboard. "You two grab what laptops you can. This may be a trap but there could still be valuable information on them. We can ask Tony to look at them, he'll be able to keep them from infecting anything else." She glanced back over her shoulder again. "Go. Hurry. We need to get out of here as quickly as possible."

Steve nodded and turned to leave, Sam following him out the door. "Left?"

"Right." 

They split along the hallway, and Steve ducked into every left-side office, grabbing laptops as he went. He met Sam at the elevator. Without a word, Sam placed his stack off laptops down and hopped up to reach the emergency hatch in the roof, pulling himself through. Steve began passing him laptops as Natasha came up behind him. 

"Got everything?"

"There may be some paper files, I didn't look. Too dark."

Natasha hummed quietly and Sam dangled his flashlight through the hatch. "You want?"

"No. I… Damnit, no, we need to get out of here."

Sam nodded and climbed out of the elevator shaft. Nat eyed Steve briefly before giving an almost sympathetic smile and climbing up through the hatch. Steve looked around and, as soon as she was clear, pulled himself up as well. 

They made their way quickly, though awkwardly with the stack of laptops, back through the door to the office. Nat cracked the exterior door, swiftly taking in the parking lot and buildings around. "Right. Looks clear. Let's go."

When they reached Nat's car, it was already occupied: two young men, practically boys, bound and gagged with duct tape sat in the narrow space between the front and back seats. They gave Nat an apologetic look when she sighed. 

"That doesn't look much like Hydra's thing." Sam reached around Natasha to open the door.

"No."

Steve took Sam's stack of laptops as Sam started pulling the first person out. "These guys yours?"

"No. Clint's."

Sam shot her a look over his shoulder and Steve nudged her shoulder briefly. She sighed. "Yes, they were who I was expecting."

"You all right, man?" Sam sat the first person down and reached back into the car to start pulling on the second.

There was a nod and Natasha sighed again. She reached down, working the duct tape on his face before pulling it carefully away. 

"Got jumped. Sorry. Wasn't expecting anyone, it had been quiet until… an hour ago maybe?"

"Who jumped you?" Steve sat the stack down beside the car and moved him out of the way as Sam pulled the second person out. 

"Dark hair, metal arm."

Steve glanced back at Nat again and she gave him a shrug. "Adapting to additional information."

"He was digging in the car, though."

"What?"

"In the trunk. I couldn't see…"

Steve was vaguely aware of Sam working all the duct tape off the two boys, talking quietly to them, but all his attention was on Nat as she popped the trunk of the car.

"Your bag."

"He was after the file."

Nat glanced at him. "He _got_ the file. And why am I not surprised you brought it with you?"

He ignored the dig. "Still think he's Hydra?"

Natasha's jaw tightened slightly. "No."

"Since your man knows we're here, we know he's here, do we go back inside?" Sam came around the back of the car, nudging his shoulder into Natasha's.

Steve found himself looking around, certain now that Bucky was there, was watching them, from one of the buildings around.

"No. What we do have is likely important enough to have Tony look at it quickly. If he's really not working for Hydra, he's probably… well, maybe helping."

"Such a vote of confidence."

Natasha shot him a dirty look. "He dragged your star-spangled ass out of the Potomac and locked Clint's kids in the car with nothing worse than some minor abrasions. I'm going to assume he's managed some level of autonomy, and that he's at least still somewhat imprinted on _you_."

Sam snickered and Steve gave his own glare. "He's not a duckling."

She heaved a sigh. "Not any more than he was in the 30s, grandpa."

"Not any less, either."

"Sam—"

"No, hear me out. Nat's right. In some weird brain-scrambled way, he's trying to _help_ you. Not entirely sure with what, but he's making an effort here to do what you'd approve of. He could have killed those kids."

Steve glanced around, not even surprised that the pair of kids Clint and Nat had guarding the building had disappeared without his noticing. "He took his file."

"He has the right to see it. To know." Natasha's voice had gone strangely hard at that, and Steve looked at her in surprise. "He has the right to know what they did. How they did it. Because I sure as hell hope he doesn't actually remember it."

"Steve, you've got the file memorized. You could recite it in your sleep. It's been doing nothing but hanging over your head and weighing you down."

"We're going to look into the laptops and this flash drive. Hydra is the problem here, remember? Barnes can take care of himself."

"But why won't he come home?" Steve hated how lost and plaintive his voice came, and he frowned fiercely into the trunk of Natasha's car.

"Because he doesn't know what home is? Because home for you isn't home for him? Because it's his choice?" Natasha's voice was still hard, and each word hit like a blow.

Sam sighed. "Natasha's right. If catching him was the thing, we would have had better luck before he started getting himself back together. But if you want him to remember, to come back to whatever bits of himself he still is, you've gotta take the other side of that and give him the free will thing, too."

"I wouldn't—"

"Steve… I _know_." Nat's hand was firm on his arm. "We can help Barnes best by dealing with Hydra in ways he can't. Not alone. Not yet. We'll figure this thing out. I'm not saying you need to give up on him entirely. But stop taking this so fucking personally."

"It feels personal."

"Oh my god. Sam, can you make him stop being such an idiot?"

"It's true. It does feel personal. Because he's your friend and you don't have many of those and you need him. And all that is fine. But do you really think, what, finding him… cuffing him, dragging him to that Avengers Tower thing is the best way for this to go down?"

"But—"

"I _know_ , man. But your Bucky is dealing with some shit _plus_ the whole Hydra thing. Give him time." Sam's arm was heavy on Steve's shoulder. "And this is the advice I give to everyone who walks into the VA. Recovery takes time, and it's a bumpy road. It's not the same for anyone."

Steve glanced between Sam and Natasha. Natasha's face was as blank as Sam's was open. "Do I look like I'm wearing my worried-face?"

Steve smiled faintly. "No, you're not."

"And you know what a shit liar I am. So can we go back to that cushy jet we've got waiting to take us to New York? I want to meet Tony Stark and reap some of the benefits of hanging out with you to make up for the getting shot at thing."

Natasha's lips twitched at that. "I'll remind you that you said that after you've been around Tony for an hour or two."

"Some days I'd rather be shot at."

"I'm sure he's not so bad as that."

"He's working on a set of wings for Sam." Steve glanced at Natasha.

Her expression immediately brightened. "I'm not surprised. Thank you in advance for playing the distraction."

Sam watched Natasha carefully for a moment, obviously waiting for the punchline, and Steve took his own opportunity to clap a hand on his shoulder. "Let's take you to meet Tony Stark."

##


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. My RL has been a bit impossible recently, and I had a birthday gift to write. But I'm back on this, and will hopefully be back to weekly updates.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented and kudo'd. <3 This is a short chapter to get back on schedule.

The flight to New York was as anticlimactic as the trip to Madison had been. The entire day had left Steve edgy, full of nerves with nowhere to go. He hated when missions went like this, when the feeling of impending _something_ overwhelmed him and nothing came of it.

He wanted to run, to fight. He wanted to flip through the file once again, knowing he couldn't anymore, because even knowing it by heart it had become something familiar. It had been proof that this wasn't all in his head, that Bucky was out there somewhere, in there somewhere. That he'd not simply hoped him into existence.

Instead he remained in his seat, staring out the window and ignoring Natasha's feigned sleep and Sam's genuine attention to the game on his phone.

##

Sam's eyes bugged out a bit when the elevator doors opened to the deafening sound of guitar and drums filling Tony's lab. He also hesitated before stepping out of the relative safety of the elevator.

Steve spared him a sympathetic smile, because Sam could jump off buildings but Tony Stark was apparently a reason for caution, before following Natasha further into the lab. "Tony!"

The music silenced immediately and there was a loud thud. "JARVIS!"

"Apologies, Sir." JARVIS said, sounding politely unapologetic. "But Captain Rogers was attempting to speak with you."

Tony's head came up from behind a table, and he shot a vague glare in Steve's general direction. "What is it?"

"Present for you." Natasha held up the small drive and grinned as Tony's expression brightened and he gestured towards her. "Barnes logged us in on-site."

"Wait—Logged in?" Tony stood and hurried around the table, taking the drive from her and staring at it avidly. "Stolichnaya _logged you in_?"

"He left the mainframe in the lab logged in." Steve glanced back to see Sam still hovering near the elevator door. "He wasn't inside the building when we arrived, though he was close."

"Hm." Tony's tone was distracted. "JARVIS will take a look. Let me know when you've got a firewall set up for this, J."

"Of course, Sir."

"And you." Tony pointed the flashdrive at Sam. "The Air Force was surprisingly remiss in not recording the force needed to rip the wings from the pack. I'm going to need to talk to you, take measurements. Can't send you off after amnesiac Russian ice cubes without a working pair of wings."

Sam held out his hands. "I didn't build them. I just fly them. I leave the hard work to the smart types."

Tony's expression brightened immediately. "You. I like you. Smart man. Knows exactly how to butter me up to get fun things. Rest of them could use some lessons from you."

Sam grinned his best smile. "I tell them that."

Tony laughed. Natasha caught Steve's gaze and rolled her eyes, lip twitching slightly. Steve offered a faint smile in response.

Tony sidled up to Sam, sliding an arm around his shoulders and dragging him further into the lab. "Right! All my best new toys for the bird-man. How do you feel about rocket launchers? Propulsion grenades? Grappling guns?"

"Sir, the firewall is ready if you would like me to get started examining the drive."

"Oh! Hey! The drive. Hold that thought, Sam-my-man." Tony's arm dropped and he hurried over to the small drawer JARVIS opened for him. "Let's make sure this isn't some dastardly plot to get Hydra's tentacles into your mainframe."

"Of course, Sir."

There was several moments of awkward almost-silence where the only sound was a quiet intermittent beep from somewhere in the lab before Tony started humming. His gaze darted around the room before he reached out and grabbed Sam again. "So, I've seen the videos, there was a news helicopter with okay zoom, and the CCTV of course, but how fast were you going when Captain Russia hooked you?"

"Sir?"

"Argh. What?"

"The drive contains addresses and what are likely access codes. I am currently cross-referencing them against the information on Shield and Hydra released by Ms. Romanoff."

"Makes sense. Shipping containers would make actually _shipping_ things pretty logical. Thanks, J. Bring up the map when you're done."

Steve turned to Natasha. "You didn't know what the base did?"

"We only had the location, and like I said, it appeared to be defunct." She grimaced. "With everything else, we didn't look too hard."

"Higher priority targets?" He couldn't help the glare he sent her.

"Extractions." She glared right back. "Releasing those files rooted out Hydra, yes, but there were plenty of non-Hydra SHIELD agents left in the field who had their covers blown as well."

"Okay this argument is entertaining and all, but if you'd look over _here_ you can see this _wonderful_ map JARVIS has made for us."

Natasha shot Steve one more flat look before turning to the network of blue lines floating in the middle of the lab. Steve's jaw clenched around everything he still wanted to say and he turned to follow her.

"Most of the sites included in this list are already known, released in the data dump, but if you will look at the locations in red." At that, the scale of the map altered and rotated, and several red dots began blinking amid the lines. "These locations were not included."

"What are they?" Steve peered at the map. "Is this just the US?"

"That is correct. All locations included on this drive are within the continental United States. They are all medical transport companies in California, New Mexico, Missouri, Virginia, and New York."

"New York? Where in New York?"

"Brooklyn, Sir. Brighton Beach Medical Transportation." A photograph opened beside the blinking marker, a blue and white sign over a double-bay garage door, the familiar sight of the Subway tracks just visible above it.

"That's… close. J, did you know there was a Hydra base that close?"

"I was unaware, Sir."

"How close are we talking?" Sam frowned at the map before turning to look at Steve.

"Walking slowly and taking the subway? 45 minutes. Nat, did you know?"

Natasha's face was as carefully blank as he'd ever seen it. "No."

He took a slow breath. "Right. Let's suit up."

##


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has been commenting and leaving kudos. <3 
> 
> This chapter wasn't in my original notes, so it took me a bit by surprise. And then Tony just wouldn't.stop.talking.ugh. Which also took me my surprise, and spawned a large number of whiney emails. 
> 
> I think Tony's probably very experienced in that sort of thing.

They didn't suit up immediately, no matter how much Steve argued. 

"Gimme intel, J." 

"Brighton Beach Medical Transport is current on all utilities, with no unexpected spikes in energy usage recorded in the past five years. It has an average four-star rating on Yelp, with the most recent review posted approximately two months ago, which is typical of other medical transportation companies. It is a preferred transportation provider for the Brooklyn Hospital Centers, Downtown Medical Centers, Renaissance Adult Day Services, New York Congregational Nursing Care Centers--"

"Thanks, J." Stark turned to frown at Steve. "You know what that tells me? Whatever cover business Hydra's running here, they've got some real normal people there doing their jobs. Far be it for me to preach subtlety, but you can't go in there all dressed up and shield flying. _Civilians_ , Rogers."

Natasha huffed a laugh. "Well. If Tony's preaching caution…."

"He's not going to be there." Steve turned on Sam, who held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Seriously. Your man is smart, he's gonna know we've got the information off that mainframe. He's gonna know we went to Stark to access it. He's gonna know the Brooklyn location is the first we'll check out. He's not gonna come out until he's good and ready or he'd have waited around in Madison."

"So we do nothing?"

"No, man. But we don't need to do anything right this minute. We can go tonight, wait until most of the actual staff has gone home to their families. Medical transportation's not an ambulance service. They don't do emergencies, they're gonna be taking people to regularly scheduled doctor visits. They'll close up shop by 7--"

"7:30, Mr. Wilson," Jarvis interrupted.

"7:30," Sam corrected with a small shrug. "At which point there'll be probably be a security guard on-duty, because they will have _some_ medical supplies, and those things are expensive…."

"Besides, if Hydra's currently operating out of this location, a night-time rent-a-cop is more likely to be involved with them than the schmucks driving the vans."

Natasha's face gave a strange twitch at that, but she didn't contradict Tony, instead looking toward the ceiling. "JARVIS, is there a CCTV feed for the location?"

"No, Agent Romanoff. The closest traffic camera does not show the storefront."

"What about anything showing an alley?"

"Yes, there is a traffic camera showing the more north-side of the alley, and a security camera for the Lock Doctor gives a partial view of the more southern side."

"Will that be able to tell us anything?"

Natasha shrugged at him. "Compare deliveries to the other shops on the block, garbage pick up, anything seemingly unusual."

"While I can access the traffic camera footage, the security camera seems to rely on a hard copy backup, and I am unable to access more than the past five hours."

"We can't wait for a week's worth of surveillance." Steve looked between Natasha and Tony. "If that place is owned by Hydra, they'll know we're looking, especially with Bucky taking out other locations."

"Do they know he's the one doing it?" Tony rocked back on his heels once before straightening with a small bounce. "I mean, fingerprints, cameras, anything?"

"Well, he did punch a hole in a door, which given the size of the hole and the width of the metal is a pretty good indicator." Sam smiled sympathetically at Steve. "I think it's a safe bet that they'll know who did it."

"Okay. Did _you_ get caught on camera?"

"No." Natasha's voice was firm. "But Clint's friends may have been, and it would be easy enough to track Steve through the airport footage if they're looking for it."

"Well, he does kinda stand out." Tony's voice was dry. "So. If they're looking, they'll be able to guess that we know, but they won't be certain unless we hit _this_ location. Closest to Avenger's Tower, closest to where you flew back to."

"So we go somewhere else?" Steve frowned.

"If another location is hit first, they might think Bucky's the one with this information." Tony gestured to the map. "At least for a while."

"Is that safe?"

Natasha shrugged. "If we assume tonight is the safest window to move while making it unclear to Hydra who _exactly_ is doing it, yes. They won't be able to make accurate projections for defence until a pattern emerges. If the pattern indicates that Barnes is behind the hit, they'll prepare for _him_."

"Which means they won't be prepared for _us_." Sam nodded.

"But how do we convince them it's Bucky?"

"I can make it look like Mr. Roboto punched something, as long as Capsicle keeps the shield use to a minimum. No distinctive gouges in the wall ruining their interior design, _et cetera_."

"We can get to any of these locations in time?" Sam pointed at the map.

"Oh sure. Even to California in time for the Late Show. I have a jet. Helicopter. Suit." Tony grinned.

"What about Bucky?"

"I think it's safe to assume Barnes will be almost as mobile as we are." Natasha's face had gone back to its earlier smooth blankness as she met Steve's glare.

"Hey!" Tony broke in. "I'd like to think I'd get us to California faster than the antique."

"The _antique_ has a several-hour advantage on us."

Steve rubbed his hand through his hair, trying to breathe through his frustration. "So we hit something. Tonight. And whether it's here or somewhere else, I keep the damage from the shield to a minimum to try and confuse Hydra. Is that what you're saying?"

"Uh. Yes?" Tony's eyes darted around the room. "At least I think that's the plan."

"So suit up. We're leaving."

##

"Hey, Cap?"

Steve felt the knot between his shoulders knot up even tighter at the sound of Tony's voice. "What?"

"So. Your friend. Brainwashed mass-murdering Hydra assassin robot." Steve took a moment to breathe, before reaching down and tightening the buckle of his boot, giving no indication of hearing Tony. Tony, of course, continued on. "What are you _doing_ , Cap?"

"I'm suiting up to take out a Hydra base."

"No, right now you're being an idiot." The sound of Tony's footsteps came closer. "Or you think I'm an idiot. Or we're all idiots. _What are you planning on doing with your former bestie?_ You can't expect to just… leave him running free."

Steve took a breath, tried to tell himself Tony's point was valid. "I want to help him."

"How." Tony's response was flat, anything but a question. "How the fuck do you _help_ that? How do you even know he's not still with Hydra?"

Steve was halfway to Tony before he fully registered the movement. "Bucky is _not_ still with Hydra. He's taking out Hydra bases."

Tony straightened, but held his ground as Steve was suddenly in his personal space. "Taking out apparently-defunct Hydra bases, and leading us to others without any obvious sign of Hydra use since you defrosted. Excuse me if I'm a bit skeptical! Your boy is making you stupid, and as Romanoff pointed out, he apparently always has. What the fuck are you thinking?"

"What would you do? If it was Rhodes?"

"Rhodey hasn't spent the past 70 years killing anyone Hydra and Red Room thought of as an inconvenience!"

"You think Bucky _wanted_ to be tortured? Brainwashed? For _decades_?"

Tony's eyes darted briefly, and he rolled his shoulders once. Steve half-expected to be punched, before something in Tony's expression shifted. "Okay. So. I'm not Sam, with that tact thing he has. And I'm not Romanoff with the whole 'I know everything' thing _she_ has. I don't do the emotions talk, so I'm just gonna lay out it there. Is this a friend thing? Or is this a something more thing? Because this? The way you're acting? I wouldn't be dumb like this for Rhodey. But I _have been_ for Pepper."

Steve stumbled back a step, eyes wide in shock. "What?"

"Because if this is the big gay love story of World War 2, I think we have the right to know about it. Because you are _compromised_."

"No."

"Yes. You are. You're acting like an idiot and--"

"Bucky was my-- _is my_ \--friend."

Tony shook his head. "I can't tell if you're lying to me or lying to yourself. But I don't really care right now. Just nice to know I'm gonna have to watch my back because you're gonna be too busy watching Barnes's ass--"

"Fuck you." Tony's eyes went wide, but Steve turned away, stomping back to the bench where his gloves were lying. "He's my friend. I'm compromised because _I care_ , but that doesn't mean--" Steve took a breath. "We were _friends_. That's _all_."

It was quiet enough after Steve's words that he could almost think Tony had left, and he concentrated on the fit of his gloves. After a few moments, there was the sound of a shifting of weight. "Right. I'm totally not equipped for this particular river in Egypt. I'll leave this shit to the bird-man." Steve listened to the retreating sounds of Tony's footsteps until they paused. "Just… think about what I said? You don't _know_ Hydra's not using him. They've been doing it for a long time. He's not your Bucky anymore."

When Steve was certain he was alone, he punched the wall. Hard.

##


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said weekly updates. HAHAHAHA *wipes tears* oh god that's totally not working out. I'm sorry. I AM STILL WORKING ON THIS, THOUGH. Just, not as quickly as I'd like. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's bookmarked, subscribed, commented, kudo'd or held my hand while writing this. You are amazing. <3

It was silent in the quinjet. Natasha was up in the cockpit with Tony, while Sam had gone back to the game on his phone. It was partially a relief, but the fact that everyone seemed to be giving him a wide berth meant that he had nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

And his thoughts were the last thing he wanted to be alone with.

He rubbed absently at his hand, feeling the lingering ache in his knuckles. He'd regretted the punch almost immediately, not in the least because it had prompted Jarvis to enquire as to his health. And if there was something more embarrassing than losing his temper over something _Tony fucking Stark_ said, it was being called on it.

And now, all he wanted was to _do_ something. The jittery feeling that he'd been fighting since Natasha's phone call grew until it felt like ants crawling under his skin, and he surged to his feet and was halfway across the jet before he'd even registered his movement. 

When he made the return pass, he noticed Sam watching him in that carefully-not-watching way he had. Part of him was grateful, because it was so _normal_ for Sam, but the rest chafed at the attention. 

"I'm not going to jump," he muttered.

"You sure? 'Cause I hear that's a thing you do." Sam's smile took over his face. "Man, now I feel left out, not seeing your crazy ass in action. Jumping off Helicarriers, but not airplanes…." 

Steve laughed in spite of himself, surprised at Sam's casual reference to the fall of the Triskellion. "You're the one who jumped out of a building and into a helicopter. Forty-first floor, was it?"

Sam waved a casual hand. "Forgot I wasn't wearing the wings. So, Tony Stark did the fall from an alien hole in the sky thing over New York… Does Natasha do any stupid stunts like that?"

"No, because apparently _that_ kind of stupidity is tied to the penis."

Steve's shoulders tightened when Natasha's voice came from directly behind him, but she merely leaned against the wall and smirked at them both. "We're just entering Kansas City now. JARVIS is going to land long enough for drop off and pickup, but will be maintaining the quinjet in the meantime."

"Thanks," Sam smirked. "But isn't that kinda obvious?"

"You could be getting a ride from Tony."

"Hey! I resemble that remark, Capscicle." Tony knocked into his shoulder with a grin. "And I'll have you know I've not crashed or dropped anyone in over two weeks. And that last time doesn't count because it was the Hulk and I was drunk."

"Why were you drinking with-- you know what? No. I don't want to know."

"It was some of the stuff Thor brought last month. We wanted to see how it would affect the Big Guy. It was for science."

"Meaning _you_ wanted to know and badgered Bruce until he agreed." Natasha's smile stretched wide. "One of these days he'll learn to say no to you and it will stick."

"Lies." Tony's grin was manic. "No one can say no to me and have it stick." 

Sam and Natasha both rolled their eyes at that, but Steve found his eyes drawn to the hatch. "Not a busy street, is it? It's risky landing at all, even at night."

"Funny thing. There's going to be a surge on the grid that blows out the breaker in about, oh--"

"Now, sir."

"-- now," Tony continued over JARVIS, his grin never wavering. "And it being after one a.m. on a Tuesday, it'll take the local power company at least an hour to even get to the site. No one will see us."

"Convenient." Sam's voice was dry, belying his grin.

"What do you mean convenient? It's a complete tragedy! All those closed businesses facing three, maybe four hours without power…."

Sam laughed, and Natasha grinned, lightly bumping Steve's arm. "Let's hope for a quick in and out, boys. According to records, this site had the most recent interaction with the location in Madison, but it's still been nearly three years."

"What's the plan if Stoli is there?"

"What are the chances of that?" Steve sighed.

"About one in five." Tony's grin flashed again, before he held up his hands at Steve's glare. "I don't know the guy. You wanted to hit New York, if he's got any history still hanging around in his head, he'll know that. So if he's looking for you, it's there."

"And if he's looking to avoid you, it's not." Natasha's voice was firm over Tony's. "He may hit nothing tonight. We don't know if he's going after any of these at all. He could have an entire other list. We don't know, and we _won't_ know until he makes a move."

"He's _your_ friend. What do you think?"

Steve rubbed his head. "He gave us these for a reason. Either they're too active for him to take out on his own, or… I don't know."

"Or there's something in them we need to see, specifically."

"Yes, that's the part I'm looking forward to." Tony actually rubbed his hands together. "I feel like I've missed out on some valuable bonding time while you've all been down in DC. It's like I never see you. And you've been making friends without me!"

"Sir, we are less than a minute from the drop off location."

"Alright then! Take us in!"

##

"Feels kinda like _deja vu_ asking this," Sam's voice was loud in the silence, "but we weren't expecting this place to be _empty_ , were we?"

"No." Natasha was tense, and Steve found himself adjusting the grip on his shield.

"That mean Cap's boy is here?"

"I don't know." 

Steve stepped further into the building, scanning the floor for obstacles. There was a faint red glow from the doorway at the far side of the room, likely lights connected to an emergency generator, that spilled disorienting shadows across the room. The others followed behind him, and he didn't need to look to know their weapons were readied. 

"Wait." Steve froze automatically and glanced back at Natasha. She gave an obvious sniff. "Gunpowder."

"Well, that answers _that_."

Steve grimaced, turning away as Sam let out a quiet curse. "He. Just. He's not here for us." He closed his eyes, knowing that even staring at his back, they would see how fucking _open_ he was about this. 

Sam's hand on his shoulder was a comfort, but Natasha was the one who replied. "We need-- _you need_ \-- to be prepared to defend yourself, Steve."

He didn't reply; he knew this conversation would not end well for either of them. Instead, he moved further in, approaching the doorway.

Natasha stopped him when they had all positioned themselves against the wall, ducking her head through before he could take point. She hissed a breath, but stepped cautiously through the doorway. "Steve…"

He pushed past Sam and followed Natasha through, stopping when he saw the body on the floor, a dark stain puddling beneath it.

"Well, at least we know he's got his gun?" Tony's voice fell flat, and Steve concentrated on not looking at him or Natasha.

"Awfully well-armed for an overnight security guard." Sam nudged the body lightly. "Doesn't look like that bad of a neighborhood, but this guy was packing."

"So. Active Hydra base--"

"And Barnes," Natasha interrupted. "You need to be prepared for the worst."

"He's here to take out Hydra." Steve pointed at the body.

"He could be recaptured, killed. You could find his body or he could be used against you."

"You're just a little ball of sunshine this morning."

Natasha shoved Tony without breaking eye contact with Steve. "You need to be prepared."

"I am." Steve ignored the clenching in his gut. "You think I'm somehow unaware of how bad Hydra is, how bad they can be. _I am prepared_."

Natasha looked like she wanted to argue, but settled for a sharp nod. "Right. We need to look for the way further into the base."

"Brighter that way." Tony tipped his head back, gesturing to the hallway behind him. "Elevator will have more emergency lights, ergo elevator in that direction."

Steve followed Tony's nod before anyone else could get in front of him again. He held the shield ready, but the hallway was empty. He didn't even pause before following the turn, Natasha and Sam tight on his heels. 

"Vehicle bay's the only door." Sam glanced back at Tony who strolled up behind them as if they weren't in an active Hydra base. "Could that be the extra?"

"J's compared measurements to the blueprints on record. This wall's too thick and there are twice as many emergency lights here as required by code."

"Because Hydra cares about code?"

"Hey, Hydra's all about the rules and using them to their advantage. They'd totally have the appropriate number of emergency lights."

"Yes, this is all very interesting, can we _find it_?" Natasha's voice cut over Tony's once again.

"Right, right." Tony placed his gauntlet against the wall, muttered a bit, then slid it further along. "Ha! Oh." He stepped back, eyes darting across the wall. "There's the door…. If I were an evil Nazi cult, where would I hide the… Ah!" He pulled the framed motivational poster off the wall, revealing a discrete keypad behind it. "What was the code again?"

"3-2-3-7-6-0-1-1-8."

Tony entered the code, and the entire wall shifted on invisible seams to reveal an elevator pod standing open and ready and well-lit.

Sam clapped Steve on the back as he approached and looked inside. Then he let out a low whistle. "Man, this thing has 10 floors listed."

"So we split up, start at the bottom and work our way up."

Natasha shook her head. "Everyone should stay together on the bottom. That's where they've likely got the labs. Their best defenses."

"Then we start at the top. Work our way down, one person keep watch on the elevator, stop anyone else from using it."

Natasha very much looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "We'll take turns. We've got to assume they'll know we're coming." She followed Sam into the elevator, giving the keypad a dirty look. Steve and Tony followed, taking a defensive stance at the doors as they slid closed and the elevator began to descend.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for the comments and kudos <3
> 
> I'm just gonna... leave this here... *cough*

At first glance, the first floor was empty. A hallway with regularly-spaced doors was easily visible in the red glow of the emergency lights. But as they crept along it, Sam lingering at the elevator, the office interiors were another story.

"So. Stoli. Good at the killing Hydra thing." Tony's voice was loud in the silence as they reached the end of the corridor, and Steve's shoulders tensed around the need to stay quiet. Half of the offices had contained bodies, slumped at their chairs nearer to the elevator, and in doorways or hidden behind desks further away. "I mean one shot, boom splat. Fast, too. No one had time to run."

"Lot of people here for middle of the night on a Tuesday." Natasha countered. "What were they working on?"

Tony ducked into the nearest office, and Steve glanced back at where Sam was waiting and watching them, gun readied as he leaned against the open elevator door.

"Spreadsheets." Steve glanced to where Tony was socketing a thumb drive in the open laptop on the desk. "J will sort them out."

"We should keep moving." Steve clenched his fists to keep from fidgeting, certain Bucky had to be somewhere still in the building. The imagined proximity was making him _need_ to move in a way that was becoming sadly familiar.

"Hold the elevator for me, Cap, I'll be another 87 seconds. Hydra needs to speed up its hardware."

Natasha patted Steve's arm, striding back down the hallway to wait with Sam. Steve lingered, staring at the body lying face-down on the ground beside Tony. From behind, even with the distortion of the red glow, he looked completely average. Tall, lean, wearing a dark polo shirt and khaki trousers. It always hit Steve how mundane evil could be. Someone he'd not think twice about passing on the street working through the night at Hydra.

"They always look so normal."

Tony glanced up, then followed Steve's gaze toward the body. "Heads sprouting as others are cut down? Seems like the definition of bureaucracy to me. And _nothing_ is more normal than bureaucracy." His mouth twisted in a faint grimace. "I know you got a misleading impression of what evil actually looks like, with that whole Red Skull thing, but most evil is done by completely normal cogs in innocuous-seeming machines."

"Believe me, Tony. I'm perfectly aware of how normal evil can appear."

"Yeah. Well. Just because it doesn't look normal anymore doesn't make it not evil, either." Tony held up his hands when Steve rounded on him. "Just sayin'." There was a beep and he smiled down at the laptop. "Oh look at that. Time's up. Let's get going."

##

The next two floors were roughly the same, though by the third, most of the bodies were in the hallway, obviously stopped in flight. Tony made a single crack about fish in barrels as he looked around an empty office, waiting for the laptop to beep around the thumb drive.

The fourth floor was a break room, filled with circular tables, several coffee and snack carts, and a counter and sink along the far wall. 

"Right. Not seeing anywhere to hide except behind the coffee machine. Quick sweep?"

Steve stepped forward, but was stopped by Sam's hand on his shoulder. "Your turn on the elevator, man."

He sighed and stepped back, watching as Tony, Natasha, and Sam moved efficiently across the floor. None of them bothered readying their weapons.

"Huh. I served this brand coffee in Stark Tower." 

"So except for that whole Nazi mad science thing, Hydra's an okay kinda company to work for," Sam smirked faintly at Tony from across the room.

"Hydra isn't mad _science_. I've seen no signs of control groups." Tony countered. "Crazy medicine and engineering, yes. Science not so much. And the crazy Nazi stuff is probably fine for the employees. I mean in a _kum-bay-ah, we're all crazy Nazis together_ way. Imagine they've got a great 401k, provided you live that long."

"Nothing here." Natasha called out as she returned to the elevator. "Apparently it's not break time for the graveyard shift."

Tony laughed. "Graveyard shift. Literally."

Steve shook his head, jabbing the door close button with more force than necessary.

##

"Steve should have to wait again. The break room totally doesn't count."

Steve looked out into the maze of cubicle walls as the doors slid open. Everyone groaned in unison, though Sam and Natasha started off immediately.

"You know what, Tony? Sounds like a great idea. Thanks." He clapped Tony on the shoulder before crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway. "You have fun in there."

"Don't get smug. No one likes smug," Tony muttered, making his way into the cubicles and disappearing from view.

Of course, that was the moment Steve felt a faint rush of air behind him. He tensed, but instantly there was a cold press of metal against the base of his skull. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Steve's breath caught in his throat. The voice was familiar, even with all traces of Brooklyn scraped from it. Bucky sounded hoarse, and quiet enough that Steve knew there was little chance anyone would hear him outside the elevator, but so like himself that Steve ached with it. The shifting pressure of the gun caused him to draw a shaky breath. "Buck…"

"No. What are you _doing_ here?"

Part of Steve wanted to stall. He knew the others would be back soon, and that the four of them could possibly catch Bucky before he got away, disappeared once again and left Steve helpless and searching. But keeping Bucky away from Hydra was worth it. "I was overruled. They decided it was safer to hit a more neutral location so Hydra didn't know who to plan against in the future."

"The Widow."

Steve nodded, certain now that Bucky wasn't going to shoot. "Natasha. Yes."

There was a huff of air behind him, amusement or acknowledgement or _something_ , before the pressure vanished from his neck, and he turned to see a pair of black boots disappear up the emergency hatch. "Buck! Wait!"

His voice was loud after the silence, and he could hear the others start hurrying back. But Bucky paused, face half under-lit by the elevator, leaving him looking haggard, but alert. "You're okay?"

Bucky's lips twisted in an unfamiliar way, and his head twitched in what could have been a shrug were it not for the blankness in his eyes. 

"Steve!"

He must have blinked at the sound of Natasha's shout, because Bucky was _gone_ and he felt his shoulders crumple as if his strings had been cut. He couldn't tear his gaze from the square of black above him, hoping for one last glimpse. 

"Steve." Sam's voice was in his ear, and he swallowed around the tightness in his throat, in his chest. "Steve. Come on, man." 

He blinked, looking around. Natasha was staring up the elevator shaft. Sam was watching him, his expression horribly understanding. Tony was fidgeting, so intently looking everywhere that was _not_ at Steve, that it was obvious Steve was the center of his attention.

"He was here." 

"Yeah, man. We know."

"What did Barnes say?"

Steve looked down at Natasha, caught by the force of her attention. "Asked why we were here."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth. We were trying to confuse Hydra, get more bases and leave them scrambling. He asked if it was your idea, I said yes. I asked if he was okay."

"And what did he say?" Sam's hand tightened on his shoulder.

He gave a shaky smile. "He didn't. He just… disappeared."

The silence stretched again, and it was a relief when Tony broke it. "Well. So Stoli is here, or _was_ here. We knew that. We've still five floors to go."

"Tony's right. We need to finish the sweep, get what we can." Natasha gave one last frown up through the shaft. "Steve…." She glanced at him, then shut her mouth with a snap, beckoning Tony inside. "Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Thank you to everyone reading and kudoing and commenting. This fic is currently considered abandoned. I'm not closing the door to coming back and completing it, but between burnout and CACW, I've been struggling for months with trying to make words for this, only to be left with a lot of frustration and nothing.
> 
> Thank you again for the love this has received.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on [Tumblr](http://eidheann.tumblr.com/).


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